“But for most of my 20s, Islam felt like a parent dishing out conditional love: I had no right to call myself Muslim because I’m queer and didn’t wear the hijab. There was no denying that the sense of shame I carried deeply impacted my relationship with my faith. After over a decade of not stepping inside a mosque, I was spiritually hungry. Although I maintained a private relationship with Allah, I longed for a nonjudgmental spiritual community where I could meet others like myself.” Read the whole article at the Guardian.